


A God Whose Existence is a Sin

by Codradin



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Blood, Character Death, Gore, Grief, Guns, Gunshot Wounds, Implied Author, M/M, Magic, Major Character Injury, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-06
Updated: 2020-03-06
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:21:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23035432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Codradin/pseuds/Codradin
Summary: A group of hitmen has killed the Host's beloved doctor.The Host isn't afraid of inflicting justice.
Relationships: The Host/Dr. Iplier
Comments: 4
Kudos: 41





	A God Whose Existence is a Sin

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Doctor_Discord](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Doctor_Discord/gifts).



> Ack okay so this is kinda based off a thing Doctor_Discord wrote on their tumblr (HIGHLY suggest going and reading their stuff they write phenomenally) and im very tired so here and also yes the changing of first to third person speech by the host is intentional

There was no god in this world that could save them.  
They knew that the second the doctor fell and liquid gold flashed behind the blind one's bandages.  
-  
The Host wasn't fast enough.  
He knew he couldn't save him. His visions had warned him of this for a long time.

That hadn't stopped him from hoping.

As he kneeled on the cold, unforgiving ground, cradling his beloved doctor's body in his arms, feeling his blood drain from the bullet in his head, feeling his body cool, numb to the outside world, all he could do was mourn.  
Until shouting broke through his reverie, the bastards who dared hurt the doctor, jeers and laughter and excitement.

But The Host could sense their fear. 

They had seen something.  
Slowly, regretfully, he lay his beloved's body back down, slowly standing to his full, towering height, and with a flick of his wrist, his bloodied metal bat appeared in his hand.  
The ground around his feet began to crack, avoiding the corpse at the Host's feet, rapidly spreading out towards the fools in front of the Host, a brilliant golden light streaming from the cracks.  
Their varying exclamations of fear pleased a part of the Host he had long since buried as he felt his feet leave the ground, wings of bloodied parchment and red ink swirling into existence behind the God, spreading out to a wingspan that brushed the walls of the warehouse, bloating out any outside light.

The Host grinned, a smile with far too many teeth, stained red from his own blood as he tore the bandages off his face, revealing empty sockets with a brilliant golden fire burning inside them.

He laughed a dark, sadistic rumble that echoed through the building like thunder.

"I don't think The Host has...properly introduced himself." He began, voice low and almost gleeful as he swung the bat in front of him almost lazily. "But I don't suppose it matters. You will die all the same." He laughed again. "And for once, the Host is looking forward to it."

One of the men got enough sense to pull his gun, shooting the Host in the shoulder and right arm, but hesitated when the Host didn't even flinch, simply arching a brow, before dropping the bat, which never hit the ground, simply levitating in the air in front of the Host as he reached over to his injured arm.

With a horrendous sound of tearing flesh and fabric, he tore the limb clean off. The consternation the Host sensed from the gunmen was almost euphoric as he tossed the limb onto the ground in front of them.

"I don't need it. You can have it." He said simply as blood oozed from the wound, but instead of falling to the ground, shaped itself into another arm, longer and more deformed, the liquid swirling in place as he picked up the bat again, his grin never faltering.

"Now, let's have some fun, shall we?"

The exits to the warehouse were suddenly blocked by walls of swirling blood and inky ichor, and despite a few of the more sensical hitmen trying, they were as solid as the concrete that made up the rest of the walls.

The Host surged forward with inhumane speed, false arm grabbing the first human in range and lifting them up to eye level by the throat. The blood dripping from the Host's eyes had streams of gold interwoven within it as he whispered to the man.

"You should have run when you could." Two voices hissed, overlapping and mingling. "But now...now I get to indulge myself. Let's see how many times I can take you apart and put you back together."  
He promptly brought the bat down onto the man's arm, and the answering scream was music to the Host's ears.  
He dropped them, only to drop to the ground himself, stomping firmly down on the man's broken arm, breaking through flesh and muscle, blood spraying into the air with a shriek of agony.

He left him to writhe for a moment, grinning with bloody teeth at the next closest victim, before disappearing and reappearing behind them, normal arm pulling them into a chokehold, his magic arm hovering mere inches above the man's eyes, elongated claws swirling hypnotically.

"Don't be afraid." The Host almost cooed. "Soon you'll look just like me; beautiful!" The ichor limb came crashing down, ripping into the man's skull and crushing his eyes with sickening pops that made the Host laugh, dropping him as well, cracking his neck slowly.

The final assassin was cowering in the corner, sobbing and shaking, begging for mercy he would not receive.  
The Host walked over slowly, the fires in his eyes burning brighter and brighter with each atrocity he committed.  
He knelt down in front of the man, still grinning.

"Don't be afraid. Come closer."

It wasn't an option. The man literally had no control over his body as he crawled closer to the blood-soaked executioner.  
They lifted their eyes up to look at the Host's empty sockets.

"P-please..." They begged. "Don't hurt me...I'll give you anything you want, j-just please, don't hurt me!"

The Host cocked his head, still beaming.  
"Oh, will you? Can you bring back the dead?"

"I-I-"  
The Host frowned, disappointed.   
"Tch. Do not lie to the Host." He growled. "Do not beg for mercy when you have spared none."

He smashed the man in the side, sending them sprawling as he stood up again, planting a foot firmly on their chest, leaning down to look them in the eyes, the Host's own blood streaming down and dripping onto the mans face.  
"We've only just begun. I will never let you leave." He hissed. "You won't die, but you'll wish you could."


End file.
